Wistoria stood frozen, her gssy blue eyes wide as tears welled up—tears that glistened like frost under the light. Her new summoner, her new master, had looked her dead in the eyes and called her... a zombie.

  Ange panicked, bolting to Wistoria's side. "Wistoria, no, please don't cry! She's just... like that!" she said in a hushed rush, holding her trembling hands against Wistoria's cold ones.

  Anastasia tilted her head, frowning with mock innocence. "Wait, that made her cry? I just asked if she was undead. I mean... she's pale. Really pale."

  Ange turned, both hands now covering her face. “When I said fragile, I meant thin-ice fragile, Master…”

  "Oh. That fragile," Anastasia muttered, then raised her voice. "Stop being a crybaby! You're supposed to be the cool one! You're ruining your whole tragic ice maiden vibe!"

  Ange filed in panic. “Master! You’re not helping—please, just don’t talk!”

  Anastasia’s lip twitched—her smirk hidden behind a faux pout. She turned coldly toward Ange. "So that’s how it is, huh? My own servant talking back to me? Back to the book, sve!"

  Wistoria's sobs halted at once. Her head snapped up, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “No…” she whispered, her voice like falling snow. She stepped in front of Ange protectively.

  “I apologize… for crying,” she murmured, her voice trembling with restrained fear. She stood straighter, gathering what little pride she had left.

  Ange, still kneeling, bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Master. I lost my composure.”

  Anastasia watched them both in silence—her second and third lives kneeling before her, trying desperately to prove their worth.

  She felt… something.

  But she ignored it.

  Anastasia crossed her arms, her eyes scanning the glowing page of Wistoria’s profile. “Emperor rank in Ice magic and… that’s it?” she said ftly.

  Wistoria flinched but nodded.

  “Tch. One trick pony, then,” Anastasia said coldly. “You’d be dead weight if we ever faced an ice spirit. Your magic would be worthless.”

  Ange’s eyes widened in panic. “B-but Master! She’s an Emperor Rank! That’s like, an army’s worth of power in one person!”

  “That’s nice,” Anastasia said, unimpressed. “But she’s not suitable for my world domination pn. If your power can be hard-countered by one element, you’re a liability. An Ice shield and boom, you're a glorified decoration.”

  Ange’s shoulders slumped as she muttered, “So you really are trying to take over the world…”

  Wistoria, desperate, stepped forward. With a whisper, ice formed in the air, forging into a sleek, elegant sword. It shimmered like moonlight on snow. She held it out.

  Anastasia blinked and reached for it, giving it a flick with her finger. A metallic cng rang out.

  “Oho… durable.” She swung the bde experimentally. “Light, banced, and pretty. I like it.”

  She turned to Wistoria. “Can you summon and dispel this on command?”

  Wistoria nodded quickly, making the sword vanish and reappear in a blink.

  Anastasia’s grin widened. “You’ve got potential after all. I could use you to set up my attack chains… Very well, splendid job, Sve Number Two.”

  Wistoria brightened, her cheeks pinking slightly. “Thank you—wait… why am I a sve now?”

  Ange facepalmed.

  Anastasia heard the familiar footsteps and stiffened. Mother again...She instinctively stepped in front of Wistoria, pondering whether to introduce her as “Sve Number Two”—but after what happened with Ange...

  SMACK! SMACK!

  Anastasia’s eyes went wide, but she stood tall, as if the spanking meant nothing. Her back straight, her expression aloof. Regal. Dignified.

  “This is merely a peasant’s greeting,” she muttered under her breath, clearly trying to cope.

  But then—“Lilia,” Zenith said calmly, “bring me the slippers.”

  That one word.

  "Slippers."

  An unfamiliar term… and yet it echoed in Anastasia’s soul with ancient dread. Her pupils shrank.

  “W-Wait! Let’s not escate this! We can talk! We can absolutely talk about this—!”Anastasia began to plead, her pride crumbling like dust.

  But it was too te. A brat must be disciplined.

  Ange winced but smiled, sipping her tea with a sigh of justice.Wistoria csped her hands together and murmured with a glint in her eye, “Karma truly is a kind goddess…”

  Ange decided it was best to confess everything to Zenith. She detailed the summoning, the misunderstanding, and the “sve decrations.” Meanwhile, Anastasia stood in the corner again, head down, arms crossed, looking like a vilin in time-out.

  Zenith sighed deeply. “I’m very sorry for my daughter, Miss Wistoria.”

  Wistoria bowed politely, hands folded in front of her. “Thank you for your understanding, Mrs. Greyrat. Though… I think maybe Anastasia didn’t mean any ill will—”

  Anastasia turned her head and gred at her. Pure malice.Wistoria felt her soul tremble. “—Maybe she did, just a little... I was mistaken.”

  Ange quickly jumped in. “Madam Zenith! Wistoria is an Emperor-rank Ice Mage! I truly believe she could be a valuable asset to your family!”

  That one sentence caused a chain reaction.

  CLINK — Lilia dropped the tea tray.Zenith blinked.Roxy, who was eavesdropping from the hallway with Rudeus, gasped.Even Rudeus’s jaw dropped. “Emperor-rank?! That’s nation-wrecking level...”

  Then came the fatal words.

  “A mere one trick pony—!” Anastasia blurted from the corner.

  Zenith’s eyes twitched. She turned, calmly.

  “Come here, young dy.”

  “No—WAIT—!”Too te.

  And so, once again, the living embodiment of pride and chaos was dragged away for a third round of righteous spanking. The house echoed with the sounds of karma’s justice.

  Ange and Wistoria sat quietly.“...She never learns,” Ange whispered.“...But somehow, she makes it entertaining,” Wistoria softly smiled.

  Paul arrived home, tired but cheerful—until his eyes nded on the two unfamiliar girls sitting politely in the living room.

  “...Am I dreaming or did the Greyrat house become a convent?” Paul blinked, staring at the beautiful priestess and the snow-haired maiden beside her.

  Zenith gave him a side gnce and calmly expined, “They’re not just girls, Paul. They were summoned… by our daughter.”

  Paul’s jaw dropped. “What?! You two were summoned by Anastasia?!”

  Still facing the wall, Anastasia puffed her cheeks and snapped, “Hmph! You underestimate me, father! I could summon a god if I wanted to! Mwahahaha!”

  Everyone stared. Ange gently sipped her tea. Wistoria quietly adjusted her sleeves.Anastasia ughed through the sting of her still-sore bottom, drunk on her own delusions as if they were wine.

  And yet… there was something terrifying about her confidence that made no one entirely doubt her words.

  Zenith sighed and turned to Paul, her voice quiet but firm. “The real problem is… if the kingdom finds out we’re harboring this kind of power, it’s no longer a family issue—it becomes a political one.”

  Paul frowned, nodding. “Yeah. It’s way too early to throw her into that kind of spotlight.”

  He turned to the two summoned girls. “So… can you two hide your abilities for now? Stay undercover?”

  Ange and Wistoria nodded. “We understand,” Ange said politely. Wistoria followed with a quiet, “We will be discreet.”

  Paul gave a satisfied nod and grinned. “Then it’s settled! Welcome to the Greyrat family!”

  Anastasia muttered from the corner, “Hmph… I should be the one welcoming you all to my empire...”

  Paul just chuckled, already wondering how much more chaotic things were going to get with three powerful girls under one roof.